Her Light
by qwertysweetea
Summary: Francis watches Jeanne the night before her trial, his heart filling with saddened love. Arthur thinks about the decision he's just about to make, convincing himself that its the only way to save his immortal soul. Based off Heavens Light and Hellfire x
1. Her Light

[I got asked to rewrite Her Heaven but a little longer on DeviantArt XD so I hope this will be okay. It's different from the original in the sense that I changed the tense and added a lot more… umm~ what's the word… I don't know… I added something to it anyway! Hope it's okay!]

Based off the song Heaven's Light and Hellfire from Disneys: Hunchback of Norte Dame

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Warning: Historical Characters

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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><p><strong>Heaven Light<strong>

**Francis Bonnefoy**

I leant my head against the chilled stone, staring out the window onto the streets below me. The scene was all to familiar to me; cobbled stones shinning like precious lost gems, the water of the Seine rippling like fine blue silk. A loving couple walked past, blind to their own affections and ignorant of their own light. There was a glow… it swamped them in the prettiest light. It was magical, so blissful.

I say all this, ignoring how hard it was to see over the fog my breath created on the glass; I pretended to be grateful of that fact but still I felt my heart swell. Swell for them and their happiness but I couldn't even find my bitterness though I searched for it, knowing I would never feel that love.

Filthy, impure, unholy… I gazed at my sinful hands. Only one person, no… she was more than that, an angel, had touched those hand without flinching. Her smile still shined in my memories. Jeanne, beautiful Jeanne… she was Heaven on Earth, all things right with the word.

She danced through her cell as she moved, not an ounce of fear holding her back as I watched her, almost feeling sick for what the not-to-distant future held for her. She glowed in that light, that same beautiful light… no sin, no hatred. Always and forever my saint…

I sighed and let sweet tears run down my paling cheeks. She would never know the love that engorged my heart, fighting against everything in my, I would protect her from it. Nothing good could come from me… even when every ounce of my being ached, bleed for her to reciprocate.

I just wanted to see that gleam of understanding in her eyes. My angel; my pure angel.

"Je t'aime Jeanne."

**Hellfire**

**Arthur Kirkland**

I knelt next to my fireplace, my closed up room isolating me from the world around me… the world, the war and the absence of condemnation. I stared at those colours that the fire produced, so hypnotic, more hypnotic that I thought possible… I painted pictures in the flames, my face moving closer.

The gold was flowing, so luscious much like that dazzling golden hair I saw so often on the battlefield. That blinding light that followed her everywhere, he eyes burned into my very soul with just a glance. I was going mad.

My hand made my way to my chest, clutching at the thin fabric on my shirt. There was no other way to see it; I would have given everything to her to have her next to me. I longed for those eyes so close even if I risked becoming blinded by that light, needed her soft lips tracing my own…

A sudden knock at the door snatched my angel from me and I looked up, my hair wild and face dripping with sweat and soot from the open flames. "What is it?"

"Sir, we have captured Bonnefoy." The satisfaction in his voice was masked with concern. "He was seen trying to help her escape."

"I will take care of him…" My voice can out soft, still soothed by the heat as a smirk crawled onto my lips. It was like killing two birds with one stone. "You make it known, anyone tries to aid her escaoe and I will take down every building in Paris, one-by-one, until she is back in my arm…" I directed my attention back to the flames.

"Arms, sir?"

I was back in my trance, my fingers dances swiftly amongst the flames and my breath caught in my throat, only vaguely aware of the door shutting behind me. "Yes… my arms."

It was sinful, the thoughts that wouldn't leave my head. I wanted her to be mine… by my side forever not with him… the vaguer fool with golden locks to match her own and piercing blue eyes. Now that would be truly unforgiveable… she would burn for that sin. God would forgive me… God would forgive his temptress… dancing heat and thick smoke would be justice enough.

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><p>Thank-you for reading x<p> 


	2. Her Heaven

[I hadn't planned for there to be a second chapter but one of my college friends came up with the idea and I had to go for it ^^ Hope you like it... Francis is left distraught and Arthur questioning himself as they watch there Angel burn x]

Based off the song Heaven's Light and Hellfire from Disneys: Hunchback of Norte Dame

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Warning: Historical Characters

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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><p><em>They both stood side by side like they hadn't in so many years, there eyes fixed on the same woman on her pyre. Her head lolled forward and the crystal eyes were closed as the flames dance around her face, it licked at her cheeks and golden curls.<em>

_Francis crossed his chest. How much he wanted to turn to his enemy, curse him with everything he could for what he had done to his Angel… but he couldn't look at him and he couldn't look away from her, even as her body wilted. He hoped it had been painless, God would have surely numbed her; no Angel deserved to feel that pain. His knees hit the wooden panelling beneath him, creaking against the weight of his fall as he crossed his chest again._

_A body joined his though he regretted looking up for some consolation. Arthur was next to him doing the same: down on one knee, hands together in prayer, a single tear slid down his young cheek._

"_What right do you have to cry?"_

_Arthur gave a strangled noise from his throat, squeezing his fists together like he was trying to muster the energy to reply without prevail._

_Another noise came from his throat. He hadn't wanted to kill the woman, he hadn't even expected she'd get this far! Even walking to her pyre, his torch against the alcohol soaked wood beneath his feet, he'd never dreamt she could look back to Francis._

"_My love, my life, my soul is for my God…" She turned to Francis, a small smile danced against her lips. "…and my country."_

_He had glared at her, anger flared and the flames danced up. It wasn't meant to be like that._

"_Jesus… Jesus…" She has uttered, starting into those blue eyes "Jesus!"_

_Arthur collapsed onto his hands, chest convulsing as he struggled to breathe through his armour. "She only has to submit!" It was barely a sob._

"_Submit to one English man and submit to England! To turn her back on her country and God!" Francis spat venomously, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks. "Hell is too hot!"_

_Arthur cringed, clutching at his chest. "That's what you told her? You're the reason she's dead!"_

_Something snapped, around them the crowd wailed well others cheered but in both there wars it was silent but for their own racing hearts and fierce breath. Before he could comprehend anything, Francis pinned him to the floor, the sharp wood digging into his skinny wrists._

"_You're the monster! You killed my Jeanne!" Francis' voice strained, his breath coming out in pants as he uselessly forced tears back. "You love, my Angel!"_

_He clawed at the hand at his throat, though his attempts where weak and half-hearted. In a way he hoped it was enough to enrage the French man above him… maybe his defeat would be over quicker than it had begun. It was a battle he didn't mind losing._

_The hand shock fiercely in its grip though he couldn't bear to finish him off. He looked into the eyes beneath; his little brother was crying… not some power hungry, cold hearted murderer… his little brother, his Arthur. No! He shook his head; that's all Arthur was now. He was cold, empty and filled with false tears._

_Francis ripped his hand away. "This is over Kirkland. I will win this battle and I will win this war, for my love."_

With a simple spark, everything went up in flames; everything about him, good and evil was in her eyes, it was something she had brought up in him.

His head jolted off the pillow, locks of Ash hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and tickled the back of his neck. There wasn't a break between panting with the harshness of his awakening and the sobbing that followed, his hands to his eyes. Ah they closed all he could see was blue ones burning back; still no anger, just a small, mocking satisfaction.

"Arthur…" The soft voice, clothed in a deep French accent spoke from next to him. He wanted to be surprised, angry even, to shout at the man as he always did but it was nowhere in him, replaced by guilt and self-hatred. All he could do as lean into the Frenchman's arms.

"Why are you here?" They both looked at the clock with a small sigh, brushing back there tears. It was a pointless question. "580 years..."

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><p>Thank-you for reading! x<p> 


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